


burn (don't bless me father for i have sinned)

by Poochee



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Rush (2013)
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, post Nürburgring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-06
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-12 00:35:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2089023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poochee/pseuds/Poochee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Oh, Niki. Look at you. So broken, so fragile. I want to feel sorry, I really do, but I've stopped feeling shit like that a long time ago. Will it make you feel better if I say it? Okay. I'm sorry. But you should have seen it coming.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	burn (don't bless me father for i have sinned)

He remembers every detail of the crash while he's in the coma. The crunching metal, the zing of flames, the _heat_. He had been in hell, surely. He had been burning in the deepest, hottest pits until there were hands pulling him back up to earth with a big gulp of air through his rattling and burnt lungs. He coughed up black and felt the wetness of blood in his eyes. He saw red; red faces and red eyes, dripping away until he passed out from the shock. He had yet to feel the pain; he needed it - _craved_ it.

He needs a reminder that he is still alive.   
  
\--  
  
He remembers the first time he met James Hunt. The reckless asshole driver who would do anything to win. He remembers admiring James for a moment before their rivalry set in again and reminded him why they weren't really friends. Two ambitious young men willing to risk their lives for some title.  
  
But the thing is, no one was friends in f1, not really. Nothing but fake, dazzling smiles and bullshit shared between assholes who couldn't shut up. Niki couldn't remember exactly when he became one of them. Perhaps it didn't matter.  
  
Still, he remembers the way James looked at him. Long. Often. The way raw hunger and determination shook him to the bone, how James' whispers of 'next time, I'll have you' had him checking his mirrors every two seconds. He'd never admit any of this, though. Never in his life. He wasn’t afraid of anything, especially James Hunt.  
  
\--  
  
It's like cotton is stuffed in his ears, a blindfold over his eyes. He can hear voices, but not what they're saying. The soft voice is Marlene. The softer one is the doctor. It can't be good news. Why would it be? He’s burnt to a crisp and hanging on by a thread. Maybe Marlene will pull the plug. Maybe she can’t handle it.

No, she’s strong. She’s a strong woman, one of the best. She’ll pull through.

Niki drifts back into the blackness that is his slumber, and relives his crash again.

\--

_“You were riding my ass out here, Ratty!” A sweat-soaked James laughed and clapped Niki on the opposite shoulder, pulling the smaller man against him. Niki’s nose wrinkled and attempted to push the blond away, muttering about how stinky he was._

_“Ah, Niki, that’s the scent of a winner! Bask in it!”_

_“You are disgusting.” Niki wiggled out of the other’s hold and gave him a look. He was sweaty himself, his overalls tied at the waist in an attempt to cool off before going onto the podium. He was upset with the fact that he had to wait until after all the bullshit to shower._

_Still, with his grumpy demeanor, James smiled at him and sized him up in that familiar way. Niki turned away with a pout and stalked off towards the podium, wondering why James was so obsessed with winning while not feeling James’ eyes on his back the entire time._

\--

He still can’t open his eyes, but he tries. His eyelids feel heavy, glued shut, and he hears voices from the hall. Marlene’s soft voice is there, and a rougher one. He’s never heard it before. He wonders who it is.

His father? No.

Clay? No.

He doesn’t know, but they sound strict. Professional.

The police?

A sharp pain stabs his nerves and he goes back to sleep.

\--

_“You should stay away from Hunt,” Clay muttered suddenly from his spot beside Niki, busy with trying to tie his overalls into a knot. They’d been helping with the cars all afternoon after the practice, and this was their first break._

_Niki gave him a look, his eyebrows furrowed, “Why?” They’ve all known each other for a while, so he can’t help but wonder why Clay would suddenly say this now._

_His teammate doesn’t glance up from his lap, his face stoic, “He is a passionate, determined man, much like you…and he has his eyes set on winning this World Championship.”_

_Is Clay… seriously warning him about James?_

_Niki would laugh if he were the type of man to, instead he shook his head and smirked humourlessly, “Do not try to scare me away from the title, Clay,” he muttered, frowning and trying to wipe the oil from his fingers on an old rag._

_“I mean it.”_

_“And I mean it, too. This is my year.”_

_“Niki…”_

_Niki made a face of slight disgust, “Where the hell did this come from, anyway? You know James almost as well as I do, what is with the warning?”_

_Clay waved him off, looking away from him, “Never mind, Lauda. Chase your title. See where it gets you.” And his teammate left the bench, walking away from the garage._

_Niki’s left alone with his car and pride, and doesn’t give Clay’s words another thought. It is one of many mistakes._

\--

The room is hazy and bright, everything blurring into oranges and yellows through his worn eyes. It’s most likely the evening, the slump where Marlene leaves to have dinner downstairs and the doctors and nurses are puttering around everywhere except this room. The silence is unsettling, nothing but the oxygen machine pushing air into his damaged lungs and the beeping of his heart monitor. He lays still, trying to clear the fuzziness in his eyes, but it’s no use. He keeps falling asleep and awaking up, mere seconds in between.

He hates this. He can’t take a single breath by himself or else he’d rattle like a baby’s toy. He’s never felt this weak nor looked it. He wonders if his father came to visit at all while he was out.

He closes his eyes and passes out.

When he opens them again, someone’s in the room.

It’s James Hunt.

The Brit doesn’t say anything, just closes the door a little before making his way over to the bed in the center of the room, eyeing all of the machinery and the window before settling his eyes on the broken Niki under the covers, bandaged and raw. The second their eyes meet, Niki passes out again.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven--

Niki wakes up, suddenly unnerved by the silence coming from the loudest man he has ever met. He feels a pool of anxiety settle in his stomach, making it churn, as he sees that James has knelt down to be almost eye-level with him.

He’s wearing a sickening grin, his lips stretched and pearly teeth showing. It’s not the friendly smile he’s seen on James before, it’s something…scary.

Niki falls asleep.

When he wakes up again, James must sense his uneasiness, because he’s stopped smiling, instead looking quite serious.

“Maybe I should come back when you’re really awake,” James’ voice sounds far away, like Niki’s hearing it through a tunnel. He closes his eyes, unable to fight the sleep that’s hooked and reeled him in.

He hears a faint, sinister, “ _If_ you wake up,” before he’s out.

\--

_Niki’s caught James staring at him one too many times and he’s only noticed it after Clay’s warning. He refuses to believe anything, James is just James. He’s a slutty, handsome, fierce, competitive driver. He couldn’t hurt a fly. His smile was too easy, too friendly. He joked around like a normal guy, maybe a little more, but Niki couldn’t believe anything Clay had been insinuating._

_“Why do you stare at me?” He asked James one day, while they’re hanging out before a race._

_James just gave him a look, “Staring?”_

_“Ja. You stare at me all the time.”_

_The Brit’s face scrunched up, “Do I?”_

_Niki felt annoyance, “Do not play dumb with me. Just yesterday you watched me like a hawk while I was on my way to my car.”_

_For all his credit, James did look confused. “Oh.” He muttered, and then shrugged, “Sorry, then.”_

_James didn’t know he had been staring?_

\--

He can’t tell what day it is. He can’t ask, and no one tells him. The only noise he can make is a whine or grunt around the tube in his throat. He woke up a few days ago, his eyes wide and searching. Marlene had been the first thing he saw, looking like an angel with worried lines on her face, but she was still so beautiful. She had given him the softest kiss of his life and welcomed him back with a smile on her lips and tears in her eyes.

She told him James was catching up, knowing that he would want to hear about the season. He wasn’t really worried. It gave James a chance to catch up. It gave Niki a reason to heal quickly and return, to take his title.

Upon Marlene’s request, a television was wheeled into his room. He had it put onto the channel where the races were broadcasted, and he waited patiently for the weekend to come, to see how everyone was doing. The doctors told him to rest, but he couldn’t. Not when his championship was at risk.

But, now visiting hour is over. A nurse had come in and announced it softly; Marlene had wanted to stay, to sleep in the room with him like she had been all along, but Niki just shook his head gently and she understood. He wanted her to go home and get a good sleep, she really needed it. At home there weren’t beeps from machines and the sounds of a dying man. She would rest easy.

That night, when he slept, he didn’t dream of the crash. He can’t remember anything, ever since he came back to earth and stopped passing out every few seconds. He’s happy about it, and he even feels the pain under all the gauze and bandages. Sometimes it’s too much, torturous, but he does his best to stay strong. It’s all he can do now.

\--

_James has a temper like no other, and Niki’s experienced it many times. He’s known James for a long time, but his anger never ceases to amaze Niki._

_“That was my race, you rat-faced bastard!” James shouted right into Niki’s face, his voice and words echoing off the concrete walls of the hallway. Niki had pulled them away from everyone when he realized that James was going to explode, and he really didn’t need the press to see this._

_“It was anyone’s race, James,” Niki sighed, running his fingers through his damp curls with a frown. James’ obsession with winning was only getting more and more out of control._

_“No,” James pressed his finger into his rival’s chest, giving him a hard look, “Niki, you don’t understand. This was my race. I was going to win. Me, not you.”_

_James was just being a big baby. So, Niki brushed him off, another mistake he unknowingly made._

_He missed the murderous look James gave his back as he walked away._

\--

It can’t be more than two hours when Niki’s roused by the door creaking open again. He opens his eyes slowly, feeling like the skin is ripping, and he sees a dark figure in the dark room. The window isn’t covered, letting the moonlight in, and Niki remembers a nightmare he once had like this.

Is it a doctor or nurse checking up on him? They used to do an hourly checkup, but now that he’s awake, he doesn’t need to be checked on until morning. The button for a nurse is just off to the side if needed, and Niki wants to reach for it as the figure doesn’t move. It just stands there, watching him.

Niki’s hand twitch at his sides, his eyes wide and he feels a sense of panic rise up his throat.

It’s James.

The moonlight reveals his biggest rival, dressed casually and looking better than ever.

“Oh, Niki,” his voice is full of pity, slicing through the silence, but he has a hint of a smirk on his face. Niki makes a small grunt in his throat, swallowing around the tube again. They’re going to take it out tomorrow after the vacuuming.

What is he doing here?

“Oh, Niki. Look at you. So broken, so fragile. I want to feel sorry, I really do, but I've stopped feeling shit like that a long time ago. Will it make you feel better if I say it? Okay. I'm sorry. But you should have seen it coming.”

_What?_

James pulls up the chair Marlene usually sits in, pushing it right up against the bed and takes a seat, “I hope you don’t mind the late visit, it’s the only time that will work for me,” he gives Niki one of his famous smiles, but Niki just eyes him wearily. The panic doesn’t go away.

“Don’t look at me like that, Niki,” James frowns, “Don’t be so surprised. You should have known this was going to happen – granted, not as badly as _this_ , I was hoping for something like a badly broken leg, but after some thought…I’m glad it’s this bad.”

_What on earth is James—_

“Oh, Niki,” James whispers like an excited little kid, leaning onto the bed and placing his chin in his hands, looking up at the Austrian with bright eyes, “You’re going to die. You are. You’re going to die here, in this bed, and I will be out there, racing, and win the championship. Isn’t it great?!”

He shushes himself and glances back at the door, waiting a moment, before turning back to Niki. He giggles and clears his throat, “I bet you’re really confused right now, I can see it in your eyes. Don’t worry, love.”

Niki’s worried. He’s close to panicking.

“It was easy after I managed to sway the room. The rain was a guarantee that someone would crash, maybe even more, two of us die every year, right? How does it feel to be a part of that little percentage? You made it up yourself.” His smile is small and thin, but he doesn’t look bothered at all.

Niki whines softly in his throat, shifting uncomfortably, never taking his eyes off James.

“You almost ruined it, you know. You could have stopped the race, easily, but I _knew_ you wouldn’t give up a chance to beat me, like you have been ever since the one centimeter bullshit happened. But, I think this makes us equal. Square, yeah?” A deep, soft chuckle fills the room and Niki tries to reach for the nurse’s call button.

“Ah, ah,” James plucks it from Niki’s fingers and sets it aside carefully, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear, “This is a party for two, Niki. Don’t spoil it.”

Niki grunts, swallows, trying to talk around the tube that’s almost suffocating him. He gags softly, and if it weren’t for his damaged tear ducts, he just might be crying.

“Shh,” James shushes him, “Niki, please. Let me explain myself, and then I’ll leave. Okay?”

He’s crazy, that’s all. James is some sociopath, there’s no need to explain anything.

Still, Niki stops struggling, his lungs rattling with harsh breaths, and he just stares at him. He needs an answer.

A smile appears on James’ face, “It’s been my dream to win a World Championship, Niki. Ever since I watched my first race. _I_ wanted to be up there, on that podium, a champion. Adored. Famous. I’m a great driver, I’m fast and quick, I have a great car…I should be winning all of those points, not you. Not Niki Lauda, no…”

Niki swallows around the tube again, feeling himself tremble like a cold chihuahua. James was going to kill him. Murder him.

“So,” James suddenly brightens, smiling once more, putting on that mask he wears every day, “I’ve decided to take drastic measures, seeing as how you’re still here, _alive_ …” He presses his lips into a line, “I will do anything for this dream, Niki, you of all people should understand that best.”

How could he? He won’t. James won’t hurt him. He has a temper, sure, but he’s not crazy.

“This isn’t my first time, you know,” James laughs softly, like it’s some fun little fact, and Niki feels his blood run cold, “There’s been others, and since I’m already going to hell, I might as well go all the way and shoot for the top.” Blue eyes watch the burnt face of his biggest rival, and James gently traces the bandage on Niki’s burnt wrist. A silence settles over them, Niki’s machines beeping and him whining softly.

“It’s a shame, really. I almost liked you, Niki. If it weren’t for this smouldering pit of hate in me, we could have been friends…oh, wait,” James furrows his eyebrows together, “You don’t have friends. I almost forgot.”

Niki wants to run. His fight or flight instinct is pointing to flight but he can’t fucking move – there’s IVs in his arms and it’s like his bones are made of concrete. He’s in too much pain to move.

He’s stuck in his hospital bed with James Hunt, who he thought was his friend, who he thought cared about him, but no, it’s all been one big lie and he’s been a fool for not seeing through the masks and characters. Clay had been right. He should have avoided James, but their history kept him coming back.

James stands, slowly, and stares down at Niki. Almost with pity, but it’s too careless to be anything but apathy.

“Thank you, Niki,” he whispers, the words leaving his lips like smoke, probably the most sincere thing he’s ever said, “For giving me the Championship. If they catch me, the police, I’ll take it all in style, but it won’t be before I’m on top of that podium being the world’s fastest driver.”

He bends down, presses his lips to Niki’s trembling lips, and it’s just a soft a kiss as Marlene’s but in all the wrong ways. It’s a departing kiss.

James straightens, moves over to the oxygen tanks beside Niki’s bed, and slowly twists the tap until there’s little air flowing from it to his damaged lungs.

Niki will suffocate by morning.

Oh, Marlene. His family. His career. His house. His cars. His pride. It’s all gone with a twist of a tap, and Niki lets out a horrible sob, needing to scream and thrash, but he’s still and muffled and there’s nothing he can fucking do about it while James begins to leave, like promised. Horrible and scary and twisted James.

He feels his lungs being to squeeze as the door shuts.


End file.
